


Salmon and Blue

by thundercaya



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundercaya/pseuds/thundercaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All my fics for this ship are really short, so have them all in one convenient place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Always Get What I Want

Roy was good at getting what he wanted from people. It was a natural talent that he’d cultivated into a fine skill over the course of his life. He knew how to work people to get things out of them, and once he was satisfied he sent them on their way. Or left, himself, whatever the case may be depending on the situation. In this particular instance, leaving was exactly what he should have been doing. He’d come to the blue-suited insurance…guy—what did he even do anyway?—looking for only one thing. A romp. A little fun. Some good, old fashioned—the Greeks did it this way, or the Romans or someone—sexual release. And he’d gotten it. God, had he gotten it. What this Jack Kelso guy lacked in terms of an agreeable personality—not that Roy had one of those himself—he more than made up for in bed. Now that he had his fill, Roy had no reason to stay any longer, and yet there he was under the covers, curled up against that warm body, moving not by any voluntary action, but only breath. Warm. That was it. It was cold in here, and colder outside. His clothes were all the way over there on the other side of the room and he hadn’t brought a coat. No problem. Move along. Nothing to see here. He’d go when he didn’t want Jack to help him stay warm, when he ran out of things to want from him.


	2. The Party Don't Start 'Til I Walk In

“You must be great at parties.”

Jack glanced up from his book with mild disdain, eyeing the man seated across from him before looking down again. 

Elbows resting on the table and chin resting on his fists, Roy gave a wry smirk. “I mean it,” he said. “What riveting conversations you must have about—” he glanced at the book cover “—color theory.”

“You know,” Jack said, turning the page, “no one asked you to be here.”

“Of course they didn’t,” Roy said, smirk blooming into a grin. “If they had, then I’d be somewhere else.”

“Hmph,” was all Jack gave him, and all he needed at the moment.


	3. Heat

During the summer months, Roy did his best to avoid the heat. When he could ditch work he spent his time at the movies, much more for the air conditioning than for the lifeless hacks on the screen. He could be better than any of them—was better-looking, too. They were lucky he’d decided to be a cop instead or they’d all be out of a job.

His actual leisure time was spent in shorts and swimming pools, having enough rich friends that he could swim in well-kept water instead of the ocean, which was naturally disgusting. Much too crowded, too, the beach, filled with those lesser people Roy had to spend most of his time around. There were always gorgeous women at the pool, too, rich men being a magnet for them. Not that he’d do anything with them—much too hot for that—but he did enjoy their attention.

There was one source of heat, however, that he couldn’t avoid. A human furnace by the name of Jack Kelso. As a kid Roy had sometimes played a game with other boys where they’d put their hands on a hot car to see who pulled back last. He’d never been very good at it back then, but he was amazing at it now, not drawing back from Jack no matter how hot it got, no matter how much it burned.


	4. Wake-Up Call

They didn’t do much more together than drink and have sex. Last night these activities had gone on quite late. Now it was morning, and while Jack didn’t care if Roy made it to work on time _he_ was going to, and he wasn’t about to leave Roy here, no matter how much the detective resisted Jack’s attempts to rouse him

"Leave me alone," Roy muttered, turning over.

Jack’s nostrils flared with frustration. “Hey, Earle,” he said “You know what’s worse than waking up in the morning?”

Roy muttered an unintelligible response, but his eyes shot open as he felt cold steel at the back of his neck.

"Not waking up in the morning."

"Jesus," Roy muttered. "All right, I’m up."

Jack pulled his gun back, and Roy quickly got out of bed.

"Are you fucking happy now?"

Jack was. The gun wasn’t loaded, but it had gotten the job done.


	5. We'll Always Have the County Fair

It was overly warm, the way Los Angeles tended to be in the summer. Not that Jack minded all that much. A little irritating, sure, but most things were. The noise, for example, and the crowd of people running about the fairgrounds. Irritating, but nothing he couldn't handle. He was seated on a bench near the Ferris wheel, a large stuffed bear on his lap--it was white, so setting it on the bench itself didn't seem like the best idea--when he was approached by yet another source of irritation that he could easily handle.

"Well," came the self-satisfied drawl of one Detective Roy Earle, the same man easily taking a seat at the other end of Jack's bench, a polite amount of space between them. Jack knew well enough that it wasn't out of consideration for him so much as to make their conversation appear innocuous to the casual observer. "If it isn't Jack Kelso."

Jack grunted a response to Roy's greeting. "What brings you here, Roy?"

"Some investigator you are," Roy said with a teasing smirk, though Jack's expression showed no indication that he'd been insulted. "The car show. Thought I'd see if anything caught my eye." Roy slung an arm over the back of the bench and grinned at Jack. "Wasn't expecting a blue hat to be what did it." 

Jack gave another not-response, so Roy went on.

"I'm guessing you're not here for the cotton candy yourself?"

"My sister's in town with her daughter," Jack said. He nodded toward the Ferris wheel. "They're probably up there now, but Alexander Hamilton is afraid of heights." The bear, Jack clarified with a nod of his head, not the Founding Father. His sister's half-joking suggestion, but his niece had taken to it.

"So that's not yours after all."

"No," Jack said, and he cracked something like a smile. He didn't think anyone who saw him would actually assume the bear was his, and he honestly didn't care much if they did, but somehow Roy giving voice to the thought amused him just a bit.

"But I'm guessing you were the one who won it."

"I was," Jack said. "High Striker." It wasn't bragging if Roy was the one who brought it up.

"What a wide range of talents you have," Roy said. "I'm impressed."

"I was a Marine, Roy," Jack reminded with a roll of his eyes. Still not bragging, not really. "I'd worry about the future of this country if its soldiers couldn't beat a Test Your Strength game."

"No you wouldn't," Roy dismissed. "You're not the worrying type. But if you feel like reaffirming the strength of the American soldier for me, we could get out of here."

There was the invitation Jack had known was coming from the moment Roy had joined him on the bench. Despite talking much more than Jack thought any one person needed to, Roy didn't waste his time chatting someone up unless he thought he might get something out of them, and there wasn't much else he could want from Jack. Not that Jack minded. He'd accepted such invitations on more than one occasion after all, but this wasn't going to be one of them.

"I'm not going to abandon my sister and my niece," he said. "Besides, we'd have a third wheel." Alexander Hamilton.

Roy rolled his eyes. "So when they come back tell them something came up, dump the bear on them, and _then_ let's get going."

"I'm not going to lie to my family, Roy," Jack said.

"I can think of at least one thing you've had to be less than honest about with them," Roy countered.

Jack wasn't swayed by this argument, just giving him a hard time now; if Roy was going to be so insistent, then he deserved it. "Just the same, we have plans for dinner and I'm not about to cancel. You're welcome to join us, though. We're having hot dogs."

"Think that's funny, do you?" Roy asked with a sour expression.

"Yes."

"All right, all right," Roy said, standing up and brushing off his suit. "Maybe next time."

"I doubt it," Jack said. "But keep trying. You might ring the bell eventually."

"'You might ring the--'" Roy echoed mockingly as he walked away. "Yeah, you _wish_ I had the time to ring your bell. Enjoy your tube of animal guts."

Jack shook his head as he watched Roy leave; of course he'd enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a friend, and we have an inside joke about Roy thinking he's too good for hot dogs, so.


End file.
